


To the Continuation

by Diary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Auror Harry Potter, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Disturbing Themes, Families of Choice, Friendship/Love, Gen, Good Slytherins, Late Night Conversations, Minor Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, POV Multiple, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Pregnancy, Pregnant Susan Bones, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repost. A look at Theodore Nott after the battle. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Continuation

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

_Avada Kedavra_.

My father falls, and I wonder if I should have faced him and cast the spell verbally. One consensus between purists and non-purists alike is casting this particular curse when an opponent’s back is turned is utter cowardice. 

What’s done is done.

Snapping my wand in half, I discard it.

It’s another thing both sides would condemn due to the belief wandlore is sacred.

My wand chose me, but I’ve never had much loyalty to it. At most, I could say I’m grateful I was able to perform the magic I wanted and needed over the years.

McGonagall is either cunning or too soft.

She evacuated the Slytherins first, but she didn’t make any move to keep us restrained once we were out of the castle. Naturally, many came back. Some are going to fight with the Dark Lord; others will fight for this school, for Potter, and/or for a world without the Dark Lord.  

I came back so I could kill my father.

He once saved my life. I suppose this means I just went against the magic inherent in life debts.

Funny I should mention life.

“Tsk-tsk,” a snatcher says. Their wand is against my neck. “Little boy wandering around.”

I’ve read many people say a prayer or a pithy saying when they face death. _I welcome death_ , or _please, gods, don’t take me_. I find myself wondering what death will be like. Ghost, limbo, heaven or hell, or absolutely nothing at all; each is fascinating to contemplate, especially the fact, in a few seconds, if the last one’s true for me, there will be nothing more to contemplate.

There’s a cry of pain, and the wand’s gone.

I look down to see a house elf looking in bewilderment at the profusely bleeding snatcher and realise the elf only made a simple cut on the leg with a butter knife.

Haemophilic, I recognise.

Kneeling down, I explain, “He can’t stop bleeding without medical attention.”

The elf impresses me by walking over, grabbing the dropped wand, handing it to me, and walking away with the knife poised.

Looking down, I see the man has passed out. He’ll die soon.

I walk away.

Even if I wanted to help him, I don’t know any medical aid, and I’m not going to risk my life further by trying to get him to someone who can. If he’s lucky, someone will come across him and manage to save him.

Magic tingles through me, and I fall down face-first with my body snapped together and unnaturally straightened. Body-bind, my mind supplies.

There’s a sharp pain.

...

The first thing I’m aware of is: I can move.

Opening my eyes reveals darkness.

I’m on a bed, and my eyes begin to adjust. There are faint voices and various smells. Carefully, I sit up and realise I have what I suspect is an IV in my arm. Most likely, I’m in St. Mungo’s, then.

I hear the curtains open slightly, and someone steps in. “Mister Nott?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to turn on the lights.”

I cover my eyes.

Once they’ve adjusted, I see the young healer is a plump man with green skin. “Don’t be alarmed. My niece spilt some permanent dye on me while she was decorating Easter eggs.”

“Is it April?”                                                                                  

“Oh, no. It’s May 4th.  Tanya decorates Easter eggs as a hobby. I’m Ali Thompson. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was walking around Hogwarts, the battle going on, and someone body-bound me. Then, there was a sharp pain, and I woke up a few minutes ago.”

He nods. “You were slightly dehydrated and are still somewhat undernourished. The spells, however, have had no noticeable permanent effect on you. The wand you were found with isn’t yours. Did someone cast another spell we’re unaware of?”

“Not that I know of,” I answer. “My wand was broken during the battle, and one of the house elves gave me the wand of a snatcher it stabbed with a butter knife.”

“I want to keep you on the IV for a few more hours. It’s-”

“I’ve been taking Muggle Studies since my third year. I understand what the main purposes of IVs are.”

Raising an eyebrow, he nods.

I wonder what he’s thinking.

A Slytherin taking Muggle studies (true Muggle studies, not the kind Carrow taught), especially for more than a year, is rare. Even those who take it as a soft option usually only take one year.

I don’t take it as a soft option. I did extra credit and never complained when Burbage held me to higher standards than some of the other students.

“Professor Slughorn will be here shortly,” he continues. “How are you feeling?”

“Normal. I need to use the toilet, though.”

“Best do that, first, and then, we can finish talking. There’s a clean toothbrush, toothpaste, and toothflossing stringmints."

After I’ve relieved myself and taken care of the rest of my hygienic needs, I return.

“From what I can tell, you haven’t suffered any damage that needs to be addressed from the battle, although, I am concerned about your nutrition levels. You’re borderline anaemic. Do you know what that means?”

“It has to do with blood.”

“To put it simply, your blood needs certain nutrients, and for some reason, it hasn’t been getting enough of them. Would you mind explaining your eating habits?”

“I eat during mealtimes.”

“What do you usually eat?”

“At Hogwarts, whatever’s closest on the table. At home, whatever the house elves fix.”

“How much do you normally eat?”

“I eat my plate.”

Healer Thompson stays for another thirty minutes to explain how I should approach food.

0

Professor Slughorn doesn’t come.

Headmistress McGonagall does, and she looks at me with tired, red eyes. “Mister Nott, your father-”

Had better be dead. I don’t hold much stock in wandlore, but if he somehow managed to survive and I broke my wand for nothing, I’m not going to take it well.

“Your father is dead.” She looks at me as if afraid I’m going to cry or whatever it is grief-stricken people do.

I suppose the answer is she’s too soft. I’ve been listening to the wireless, and people are already condemning her for assuming the worst of all Slytherins. For me personally, her doing so was one of the few times I ever felt a spark of respect for her.

I nod. “I’ve been preparing myself for the possibility.”

She looks close to tears. “Mister Nott, your father was at Hogwarts. He was killed by the killing curse.”

“Headmistress, my father was a death eater. Obviously, I’m not happy he’s dead, but as I said, I’ve been preparing for it. The Dark Lord had a temper and very little use for loyalty, no matter how long-term, and if it wasn’t him- I don’t care. If my father was attacking someone, I’m not going to hold a grudge against the person who stopped him.”

Sighing, she sits down. “We tried sending an owl to your house elves, but it kept coming back.”

The manor’s unplottable, and before my father was sent to Azkaban, he made me secret-keeper of it so I’d be safe during the summer and so the house elves couldn’t be brought in during my school years. “I need to check on them once I’m released. I don’t know what they do and don’t know about my father and Potter winning.”

“I’ll escort you,” she says. “There’s less than a month left, but I’d like to encourage you to finish your school year. Naturally, exams will be cancelled.”

“I plan on it.”

0

The manor is far in the country away from muggles, dirty bloods, and blood traitors. On my request, a ministry official had taken the fidelius charm off me, though, I intend to keep the manor unplottable.

In a ministry car, McGonagall says, “Mr Ollivander is working as hard as he can to get wands for those who need them. You can add your name to the list once we get to Hogwarts. He’s trying to get students taken care of first, but there are others who need it more.”

“That’s fine. I don’t mind waiting. If he’s still busy at the end of the term, I can travel and get one elsewhere.”

“I am sorry about your wand.”

“I knew the risks before I went in, Headmistress.”

She visibly hesitates.

“If you’re wondering why, it’s because I was tired of constant uncertainty. My father was suddenly thrown in Azkaban, Potter and the ministry were arguing, and then, when it became clear the Dark Lord was coming back into power, I watched people I’d seen for years, some of them for all my life, disappear or end up dead.”

She pats my hand.

We arrive, and I tap the iron gates three times with my left ring and middle finger. They open, and we go past.

Inside, Elise greets, “Young Master.”

She’s an old house-elf who was my father’s primary caretaker when he was growing up. There’s a deep gash in one of her ears, and I wonder what she did to make her believe she deserved punishment.

“No. My father’s dead.”

Elise sighs. “Master is safe, at least. Elise will make some tea for him and guest.”

“Elise, I’m going back to Hogwarts soon. I need to talk to you and all the others. Get Headmistress McGonagall some tea, and then, have them assemble in the kitchen.”

0

It seems all the elves have self-inflicted injuries.

As for their reaction to my father’s death, some of them had muttered sympathies and patted me, but thankfully, none of them appear to truly mourn him.

“From now on, there’ll be no more self-punishment,” I say. “If you make a mistake, fix it. If it’s something I need to know about, come to Elise or me. The ministry may come over. If they do, protect the gold, but otherwise cooperate fully with them. If they want to take anything, aside from yourselves and the gold, let them. I’m going back to Hogwarts today. I’ll be back at the end of the term.”

My father’s distrust of goblins went further than most pureblood supremacists do. He kept the family fortune and heirlooms in a secret compartment of his bedroom and was secret-keeper to it. Thankfully, he told the elves and me the secret.

The elves shift, and I don’t know what they’re thinking.

“Master should eat before he goes back to Hogwarts,” Elise says.

0

When I arrive in the common room, Bulstrode’s cat, a British Bombay by the name of Yumiko, comes over and nudges me.

“Hello, Nott,” Blaise Zabini says. “You and I are the only seventh years left in the House. Malfoy and whichever of the goons survived are being held in custody, Parkinson’s parents have taken her somewhere, that girl with the glasses, I guess we should find out her bloody name, is dead, Greengrass and Davis packed up and left, Urquhart is dead, and Bulstrode hasn’t been answering my owls.”

“There are ways to make yourself where owls can’t find you.”

“I know,” he says. “If she’s dead, I’m going to kill her cat.”

Zabini is a vegetarian, extremely protective of the castle’s elves, and when Filch and Auror Kingsley didn’t let us retrieve our belongings and pets when we were led out, Zabini insisted he needed Bulstrode’s cat and was ready to hex them until Urquhart stepped in and smoothed things over.

Somehow, I’m not worried for Yumiko even if Bulstrode does turn up dead.

“Where’s Slughorn?”

He stretches out on the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t come back.”

“What about the younger years?”

“Most of their parents have got them. Ling, Miko Ling, the girl obsessed with Longbottom’s parents, was hit with an interrupted killing curse. Her parents took her home to die; I imagine her brother won’t be back this year. The Carrow twins, the girls, they’re in custody. Harper’s still here. Prewett wanted to stay, but her father showed up and tried to kill Arthur Weasley with a chair for not telling him what was going on. Then, he found out that the Weasley girl knew that Prewett had faked her genealogy line, and he tried to attack her, which caused some very interesting things to happen. In the end, the Weasleys put her and her father on the Knight Bus, but who knows if she’ll find a way back or not. I don’t know about anyone else.”

Yumiko falls asleep in my lap.

0

In the Great Hall, Zabini yanks Graham Pritchard down. “Obviously, we have no chance of winning the House Cup. Don’t make it so that you spend the rest of your stay in detention.”

Pritchard scowls. “Then, make them go away!”

Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillian shift uncomfortably. Both are purebloods, both are blood traitors, and the latter seems to fancy Neville Longbottom. I imagine he’ll choose her over mixed-blood Lovegood.

It’s vaguely ironic such blood traitors would make a pureblood match.

I may not understand people, but I do see their motivations.

Abbott wants security and a companionship, and she’s willing to settle for the first nice bloke who looks at her differently than her two male friends do.

Longbottom and Lovegood are in love, but Longbottom wants a conventional, pretty wife and maybe a child or two. He doesn’t want a passionate, risk-everything, can’t live without them love. He killed the Dark Lord’s familiar, but he’s still the same scared boy he was when he first came here.

Lovegood wants the passionate, risk-everything, can’t live without them love, but she isn’t going interfere. If he chooses Abbott, then, she’ll move on.

“If any of us have bothered you, take it up with a professor,” Zabini says. “We’re just trying to eat our food in peace.”

“The thing is,” Abbott says, “we were wondering if you’d like to sleep in the Hufflepuff basement, in our dorms. I mean, there’s only you and Nott in the seventh year, and there are only sixteen of you in total. It must be lonely in the Slytherin dungeon. We’ve talked to the headmistress and our heads, and they all said that it was fine with them but it was up to you.”

“What about the rest of your House,” Pritchard inquires with a glare.

“We had a vote,” Abbott answers. “No one will bother you, we promise. Um- Ernie.” She nods at him.

“I’ll be happy to sleep with the other seventh year boys. You and Nott can share the Head Boy’s room.”

“And Headmistress McGonagall said you could both use the prefect bathrooms, since there aren’t any Slytherin prefects or head students left,” Abbott says.

“No,” Pritchard snaps.

“We’ll talk it over,” Zabini says. He looks at a group of first and second years.

He’s probably thinking, if we accept, he’ll be able to stop dealing with the ones who want to bunk with him. By the middle of the year, it’d gotten to a point where almost everyone was camping out in the common room, and someone would always cry when he and I tried to stay in the seventh year dorms.

In the Hufflepuff basement, plenty of other students will surround them, and Abbott and Macmillian will probably happily take over the duties of comforting the younger ones.

They leave, and Zabini looks at me.

“Your call.” I finish my plate.

I was supposed to pick out the foods I wanted and pay attention to the taste and how my body reacted. Instead, I did what I always did and filled up my plate with whatever was close.

I feel the same as I always do.

0

Macmillian demonstrates how to get in the Hufflepuff house, and Abbot informs us, “It’s the safest House in Hogwarts. Some of the plants have berries and edible leafs; you can eat any of them you want, Professor Sprout is very careful to make sure none of them are poisonous.” 

Yumiko squirms in Zabini’s arms.

We crawl in, and the first thing I notice is how warm it is.

“Yeah,” a Hufflepuff girl says to me. “We always have a bit of trouble with cooling charms and the like, but during the winter, this is the warmest place in the castle. The dorms are a bit cooler; they don’t have any fireplaces. We just leave the doors open, and the heat from the common room plus the natural warm from being down so low is more than enough.”

“Here,” Macmillian says to Zabini and me, “I’ll take you to the head boy’s room.”

0

A week passes, and everything is as normal as can be under the circumstances. Certain parts of the castle are forbidden due to construction being done, and people who don’t have wands are exempt from practical demonstrations. Almost everyone shies away from my House, and most of us avoid the others.

Zabini sends an owl out for Bulstrode every day, and every day it comes back with the message still attached.

She’s always excelled at Charms and Transfiguration and was adequate at Defence, yet, she couldn’t duel well, and aside from an incident involving Hermione Granger in our second year, she stuck firmly to the rules.

Let her be ruthless, let her have blood on her hands, let her come back to her cat and Zabini, I find myself thinking.

0

Someone is running through the halls, and grabbing my arm, they begin trying to drag me. “Death eater. Wandless. Run!”

Too late.

The person disappears from view, and I find myself with a wand jammed against my throat.

“I know what you did,” a feminine voice croaks. “I saw you.”

Frankly, I wish the universe would make up its mind. Either, I’m going to die soon or I’m not.

“You killed your father." After a stretch of silence, she demands, “Speak!”

“Hello, Roberta,” Flitwick’s squeaky voice says.

In the corner of my eyes, I see him with his wand pointed.

“Come on, my dear,” he says. “You’re much stronger than this. Whether you’d stayed in Azkaban or not, Robert would still be dead. He didn’t die saving you. After he sent you out of the castle, he was protecting another student when Alecto Carrow hit him with a fatal curse.”

Roberta Urquhart: death eater and mother of three dead children. She had a stillborn daughter, a death eater by the name of Ulysses, and Robert. The last was more of a blood traitor than the Weasleys. He called himself brother to two muggles and was in love with another. He would have made an excellent professor; he had a way with children.

At the beginning of the year, he had his mother framed and sent to Azkaban. Despite this, he often sent her letters and kept vigilant watch for any she sent. Blood traitor or not, he still loved her.

I wonder what it’s like to disagree with someone so vehemently yet try everything in your power to keep them safe and as comfortable as you can.

Two words, a flash of green, and the man who had once saved my life, provided for me, and lived with me for eleven years, for five summers, hit the floor by my hand.

I didn’t even particularly disagree with him. I wonder if muggle-borns can ever fully interrogate and if mixed families are a healthy place for children to grow. I know history is filled with fools who caused great damage due to their belief muggles and magic can co-exist on a large scale, and I have my doubts enough has changed for such an idea to work.

The difference is: I don’t want to be involved in sides. My father was an isolationist, but I’m even more of one. Aside from blackmailing Zabini into asking Bulstrode to the Yule Ball and trying my best to subtly manipulate them into seeing the obvious for years, I don’t care what people do as long as their actions don’t affect me.

I have a limited sense of personal commonality towards them, I suppose. Zabini has to deal with his mother, and Bulstrode just wants to live her life without dealing with others. Somehow, though, they seem a little more as if they belong somewhere, if not at Hogwarts, when they’re around one another.

Roberta’s hands are shaking.

“Don’t dishonour your namesake by doing what you’re thinking, Roberta. Let the child go, and I will try to help you.”

Seventeen is a man in the eyes of the law. I couldn’t kill my father when the trace was still on me. Though the three unforgivable curses were legalised under Thicknesse and he was still minister during the battle, I knew, if Potter won, Thicknesse would be removed, and the first order of the new minister would be for the three to be retroactively made punishable by a life sentence or the penalty of death.

Yet, here Flitwick is talking as if I’m a defenceless, innocent preteen.

Now would not be a good time to laugh, even though it is dreadfully amusing.

“He’s no child! You don’t know what he’s done.”

“He’s a student,” Flitwick replies. “He’s not responsible for Robert’s fate, Roberta. His name is Theodore Nott, and he’s getting later for Divination by the minute.”

Still shaking, she lowers her wand.

It flies out of her hands. “Step away from him, Roberta. Let me get Miss Bones down.”

I look up. Susan Bones has her feet firmly stuck to the ceiling. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is moving wordlessly.

She’s a Hufflepuff, I remember, and she’s either in my year or a year below.

0

There’s a good chance Susan didn’t hear anything.

Urquhart was taken back to Azkaban. I suppose the fact there aren’t any more dementers there would be a comfort to her youngest son.

As far as I know, she hasn’t made the accusation of me committing fratricide to anyone else.

Zabini has been sticking close to me and chasing off anyone who tries to talk to me about the incident. Meanwhile, Susan seems to welcome the attention.

0

Bulstrode appears with her mother and grandmother.

0

It’s a week before graduation.

I still haven’t got a wand, and I wonder if I’ll ever miss Hogwarts. Only a few people here have truly struck me as interesting, and I suppose I’ve felt fondness for a few of them. I wouldn’t die for any of them, though, assuming the risk of me getting caught was low, there are a few I think I’d kill for.           

Headmistress McGonagall seems worried about me.

“What are your plans, Mister Nott? Do you have any family? Are you close to any of the students here? Close enough that you could stay with them for a while?” And so on.

My plans are to go home. Hopefully, the house elves are still alive and well. I’ll decide what to do once I get there. I doubt working will ever be a necessity, but I might decide to start at some point.

Perhaps, I should be worried, too.

Yumiko climbs over me to play with one of the dancing plants. Bulstrode's mother and grandmother are sleeping in guest quarters, and officially, Bulstrode is sleeping in the girls’ dorm. In reality, I moved myself into the common room and commandeered one of the couches in the far corner so that Bulstrode and Zabini can share the head boy’s room. Whether they utilise both beds or not isn’t my concern.

Macmillian tried to get me to sleep in the boys’ dorm, but Susan convinced the others to let me be.

The cat divides her nights between sleeping in the head boy’s room and curling up on top of me. Thankfully, I’ve figured out the correct cooling charms to use.

Across the room, a group of people discuss the graduation gifts they’ll be getting.

I remember how the others used to discuss the presents they got at the start of the year. Malfoy would brag, Crabbe and Goyle would have to be reminded what they got by Malfoy, Urquhart would be humble, Zabini would be nonchalant, and I would try to puzzle out why they got the gifts. After the third year, they stopped asking me.

Harry Potter tried to get the Dark Lord to feel remorse by promising a terrible fate if he didn’t.

If I can help it, I’ll never feel remorse for my father.

Does this mean my soul is doomed? Should I care if it is?

0

“No wand,” Elise mutters. She bustles around as best as her joints will let her. “No wand, not acceptable, no. Nott name used to be powerful. Half-bloods and mudbloods and blood traitors get theirs but not my master. Won’t do at all. Elise will send Jaky out. Jaky will find a suitable wandmaker. Not even given his father’s wand.”

I suppose I could have asked about it and if I could have it.

“That’s fine. How are you and the others?”

She looks at me for a moment before answering, “We is well. Master needs wand, yes. Master’s had wand since he was six and showed accidental magic. Yes.”

She drifts away.

0

An elf sets a plate down in front of me, and I suppose I really should know his or her name.

I look down, and the elf gives me a tentative smile.

Nodding, I go back to the plate.

As I’m finishing, Elise and a younger male elf come in. “Jaky found wandmaker for Master. Mudblood, yes, but talented. She make powerful wand.”

“You didn’t actually call her that within her hearing, did you?”

They shift.

I’m not cut out for ownership.

“Fine, but don’t do it again. In fact, from now on, unless there’s a very good reason, don’t bring up a person’s blood status at all. It’s time to accept muggle-borns are a part of wizarding society. My life will be much easier if it’s made clear I’m no threat.”

Elise looks at me with penetrating eyes. “Yes. We tell her we speak for old master, not young one, when we say such words. Master is ready?”

I nod, and Elise apparates me to a tiny shop.

The Irish wandmaker is only a few years older than I am and continually blows a strand of hair off her forehead.

“Acacia. Thestral hair.” She studies me intently. “You’re one of the most interesting customers I’ve had in a long time.”

“My other wand was acacia with dragonstring.”

Giving a somewhat disturbing smile, she makes a note in her book. “Well, sometimes, wands change.  Not usually, but I assume you took an active part in the war? When a wand is lost during a traumatic time, the person comes out different, and sometimes, that means their magic needs a different instrument. Now, we do debit; if you don’t want to pay me, you can sign a letter authorising Gringotts to transfer the money to the store’s account.”

Withdrawing my wallet, I ask, “How much?”

0

“Your iron levels are still very low,” Healer Thompson says.

My father didn’t believe in check-ups. In fact, he didn’t believe in healers. When I was nine and caught a high fever, he considered taking me to St. Mungo’s, but the fever broke on its own. When I was thirteen, he came down with appendicitis and refused to go. The house elves eventually performed surgery, and he’d recovered on his own.

“Food’s necessary, but I don’t understand why people pay so much attention to it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you ever get hungry? Feel a craving for a certain type of food?”

“Yes to the first, and no.”

“Do you eat when you’re hungry?”

“If it’s mealtime, yes.”

“What about snacks?”

“At Hogwarts, I’d eat them if someone in my House handed me one and told me to eat.”

“Okay. I’m going to give you a journal. I want you to write down everything you have during meals. If you don’t finish something or have more than one helping, write that down. Meanwhile, I’m going to prescribe vitamins; take one a day, and try to take them at the same time every day. The time isn’t important, just whenever you think you think you can remember. Now, aside from your iron levels, you appear to be in good health. Is there anything else?”

“I was wondering if anything can be done about my teeth.” They’re uneven and slightly crooked, and despite my brushing every day, they’re slightly yellow.

He examines them.

“I can fix them, or I can refer you to a tooth specialist. Part of the yellowness has to do with insufficient nutrition. It’s also recommended a person brush and floss two or three times a day.”

All my life, I’ve only brushed once a day.

“A whitening spell can be done,” he continues. “It won’t completely rid you of the yellow, but it will help speed up the process, provided you brush and floss in the morning and at night.”

“I’d like them fixed now.”

0

Rubbing his arm, Jaky leads Macnair in.

“Don’t harm my elves, Mr Macnair,” I say. “Would you care to sit?”

He puffs his chest. “Don’t tell me you’re soft, Nott.”

“I prefer efficient elves over cowering ones.”

“This conversation is a private one.”

“Jaky, leave.”

Wordlessly, Jaky does.

We sit.

“I’m sorry about your father. He was an honourable man, full of talent.”

“Thank you. Is there a reason aside from giving your condolences for your visit?”

“Our lord might be gone, but his idea still lives on,” he declares.

I wonder if he truly believes in the ideas or if he simply relishes the killing and torture.

“We’re forming a resistance, and you’ve been selected. We can help one another, and together, we can bring blood purity back to the wizarding world.”

Says the son of a muggle-born and a half-blood and the husband of a half-blood.

“I’m sorry to say you’ve wasted a trip, Mr Macnair. I have no intention of joining any resistance.”

“But-” He sputters. “Our lord’s ideas- your father’s ideas.”

“How many people have those ideas gotten killed? No. My father and the Dark Lord were both fighting a losing battle, and so, sir, are you.”

“I never pegged you for a blood traitor, Nott,” he hisses.

He stands.

I stand, too, and slip my hand into my pocket for my wand. “Is that all, sir?”

“I suggest you rethink things. We won’t take kindly to traitors.”

This is the part where I’m supposed to be scared.

This is the part where I wish the universe would stop toying with me.

Some people feel intense fear. My mother once held a knife to my neck, and even as I felt it slipping in and experienced the unbearable pain, all I remember was wanting the pain to stop rather than feeling any desire to flee, to live, and/or to get away from her.

“I’ve had years to think things through.”

He slips his wand out. “You’re the last of the Nott’s. It’ll be a shame for your name to end, but-”

Before either of us can raise our wands, Jaky reappears and stands protectively in front of me. “Sir will leave, now,” he says with his fingers poised to snap.

Laughing, Macnair pockets his wand. Looking me straight in the eye, he says, “Bells have been rung, Nott. You won’t always have your elves around.”

Macnair leaves.

Shortly after he does, Elise appears with Jaky trailing behind her. “Threatened Master. Can’t get away with such, no,” she declares.

I set my book down. “The house is well-protected.”

“Master goes to St. Mungo’s! Might want to go elsewhere, too.”

“Elise, don’t worry about it. I-”

“Orders not do any good,” she informs me. “We feel what we feel; one thing wizards not controlling.”

“Point noted. Leave it be, then. My father left me a marked man. If I’m lucky, I’ll survive. If I’m not, I’ve already filed my will. A witch by the name of Hermione Granger will make sure you and the others are taken care of.”

Jaky looks horrified, and Elise looks grim. “Won’t do,” she mutters. “No, won’t do at all.”

0

“You don’t eat much,” Healer Thompson notes. “You don’t eat much meat, either. That usually isn’t a problem for vegetarians and vegans, but you aren’t getting the necessary nutrients elsewhere. I’m assuming your lack of meat isn’t due to morality?”

“No. I just eat whatever the house-elves serve.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “I usually don’t do this, but I’m going to make up a menu for the month. Give it to them, and make sure it’s followed. If you want to eat past the menu, that’s fine. It might take a week or two for you to be able to completely follow the menu, but try your best.”

I nod.

“Anything else?”

“How do I go about getting sterilised?”

He raises an eyebrow. “If contraception has-”

“I’m not seeing anyone. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. My mother was my father’s first cousin. She tried to kill me when I was three due to mental issues. My father- well, aside from being a paranoid sadist, everyone knows what sort of person he was. Lack of nutrition may be a part of it, but there’s a good possibility I’ll always be physically frailer than I should be. Aside from that, I seem to have come through with my mental and physical health undamaged. If I do ever get involved with a woman, I don’t want to risk her getting pregnant and deciding to carry to term.”

He leans back. “You’re seventeen, Theodore. Legally, you’re an adult, almost eighteen, but you’re still so young. There might come a time you find someone, and you decide you do want children.”

“That doesn’t matter. Do you know how many fevers I’ve came down with over the years? Every time there was a bug or flu at Hogwarts, I was one of the first victims.” Reaching up, I touch the almost completely faded scar on my neck. “I still remember how the knife felt going in. I’m the product of so much inbreeding that, even if I had a child with someone completely unrelated to me, there’s a good chance they’d have too many problems to ever have a proper life.”

“Well,” he responds, “as I’ve said, you are an adult, and you do have the right to make these decisions. Why don’t we see if the menu works, first? You can think about it some more. Once you’re nutrient levels are where they need to be, if you still want it, we can schedule the procedure.”

“Okay."

“Would you like a less permanent form of contraception in the meantime?”

“No.”

0

_Nott,_

_My mother is insisting on throwing me a birthday party; if you come, bring an owl for my present. My old one adopted Yumiko. If you want to bring your elves, feel free._

_Signed,_

_Blaise Zabini_

I suppose this means either nothing happened or whatever happened didn’t last.

“Elise make a suggestion?”

Looking up, I nod.

Feeding the post owl, Elise says, “Master want to break away from Old Master? Master go to party, show people him different. Then, he is able to work in peace.”

I don’t work. Lately, I’ve taken to reading and conducting experiments to disprove current alchemy textbooks. Her suggestion is a good one, however. I’m never going to convince anyone I’m a noble person, but if I go to the party, socialise a bit, and then, return home to my quiet life, perhaps, it’ll convince people I’m not secretly threatening the security of wizarding Europe.

“Find a suitable owl for his present. If you and any of the other elves want to come, that’s fine. It’s a choice.”

“We coming.”

“We are coming,” I correct. “Or: We will come. I’ll need to send a letter; he didn’t say when the party was or where.”

“Birthday on the twenty-fifth. We know address,” Elise replies. “We is friends with some of his elves.”

Is, are, I mentally correct.

0

“You’ve gained some weight.” Zabini hands me a bottle of pumpkin juice. “Thanks for the owl, Nott.”

“What happened with Bulstrode?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. At Hogwarts, we both had nightmares, and we slept in bed together. Afterwards, she went home with her family, I went home to mine, and Gomer decided to stay with Yumiko.”

Impulse control has never been a problem for me. At this moment, however, I want to curse him. I want to track her down and do the same, and possibly add Longbottom and Lovegood to the list.

People are stupid, people are fearful, and so on.

Zabini first talked to Bulstrode during our second year. After the Yule Ball, they talked to one another more frequently. When it was time for her to leave, she left her cat, the most precious thing besides her mother and grandmother, in his care. I’d bet a lot she loved him, and I’d bet everything he loves her.

None of this is my concern.

“I wasn’t aware our elves knew one another.”

“Klinky knew a lot of the Hogwarts elves. He was overprotective. Until my third year when Dumbledore tightened the wards, he’d come over all the time.” Looking across the room, he sighs. “Excuse me.”

Wandering around, I eventually stop when I hear Elise’s voice coming from the kitchen, and standing against the wall, I look down at a book I’ve brought along.

“We thank Klinky.”

“Not enough,” another elf says. “Has to change, something does. Master called a man, now. Other elves won’t spare as much anymore. Some not sparing any at all. Klinky different, but he only able to spare so much. Has his own to look after.”

“Klinky could talk to his master,” a different elf says. “He has loyalty to Nott boy.”

“Winky will give us leftover vegetables and fruits from Haggy’s garden.”

“Master needs meat, healer say so.” Elise sighs. “Master is different from old master. We tell him old master not let us use more than certain amount of coins for food, and he-”

Another elf interrupts her, and I walk away.

Lately, the elves have been getting thinner. Further proving I’m not cut out for ownership, I hadn’t given this any thought.

0

“Did Master enjoy the party?”

“Hopefully, it’ll accomplish my mission. Elise, forget the budget my father set. I want all of you well-fed, and I don’t want you trying to wrangle charity out of other elves to do so.”

For a long moment, she simply looks at me. “Master is free, but will he ever be happy?”

“That isn’t your concern.”

“Elise knows you’ve been helping that mudblood advance. Master wants to be rid of us.”

This old elf has just proven herself potentially interesting.

“You are necessary sacrifices. If I free you and the others, the world will have no choice but to acknowledge me as good.”

“Master will be killed the second we gone.”

“So be it.”

Nodding, she starts to walk off, but then, she stops and turns. “Elise watched old Master go from baby to old man. Never had any love for Elise, he didn’t. Master doesn’t, either, but Elise keeps hoping, one day there be a little Nott. Return her love.”

I wonder at the wizards and witches and any other beings who helped enslave elves. Did they realise the cruelty of what they were doing? Did they care? Did they do it because they themselves were cruel?

Standing before me is a creature who has never known freedom, likely never will, and yet, she loves those who keep her enslaved. It’s not uncommon. For every one like the Malfoy’s dead elf, there are ones like Elise. Can any of them ever truly be happy in slavery?

I know I wouldn’t be.

“Elise, I’ve been permanently sterilised,” I lie. “The Nott line will end with me.”

“So be it,” she echoes before disappearing.

0

I wake up to hear, “Theodore Nott, if you’re here, I’d like to speak to you! If he’s not, I apologise to everyone for my yelling!”

Getting up, I go to the door. “Elise, move aside. Bones?”

“Yes,” Susan answers. “I apologise for causing a scene. May I talk to you?”

“Come in. Elise, make some tea.”

After Elise is gone, I motion for her to sit. “Why are you here?”

Her hands go to her stomach. She’s naturally chubby and hasn’t undergone a noticeable change in weight, but something about this gesture tells me she’s pregnant.

In a wavering voice, she states, “I visited Roberta Urquhart. She insists you killed your father.”

“And?”

She takes several breaths. “I believe her.”

“You are aware the sensible thing to do would be to anonymously-”

Her shaking increases. “I need gold.”

The Hufflepuff is blackmailing the Slytherin.

Life continually amuses me.

“How much?”

She looks at me as if I’m insane, and I resist the urge to point out I’m not the pregnant witch who came alone to the house of a Dark family while believing the owner coldly killed his own father.

Elise appears with the tea. I dismiss her.

Susan doesn’t drink any.

“How much,” I repeat.

Taking another breath, she says, “I need enough to go somewhere safe. The Crabbe family is after me, and if- if I go to Hannah or anyone else, people will get hurt.”

Crabbe sr. is a fan of martial rape. During the first war, he managed to save himself from a guilty verdict due to the recantation of several of his victims and the mysterious deaths of the others. His son has never struck me as a sexual person, but from what I understand, rape and sexual desire often have little to do with one another.

“Give me a few minutes.”

Leaving, I go to my father’s room.

Elise appears. “Is Bones girl carrying baby?”

“Yes.” I summon my mother’s mokeskin pouch. “A Crabbe.”

“Why is Master giving Bones girl jewels?”

“I have to help her, but if I give her the gold needed, it’ll severely set back the household.”

“Have to help?”

“Yes.”

Elise doesn’t press. Instead, she starts filling the pouch with all the jewels but one. “This was Mistress’s wedding ring. Before she got sick, she wanted Master to give it to girl he married.”

Before she got sick translates into before she decided to try to kill me via a knife to the throat.

I’ll never get married.

Looking down, I see Elise looking at me with pleading eyes.

“Put it back, then.”

I add enough gold for a Go-Anywhere Ticket on the Knight Bus to the pouch.

Going back to the living room, I hand it to Susan. “Most of it is jewels, but you shouldn’t have any trouble selling them. If I give you the gold needed, my elves will suffer.”

She glances inside before quickly scurrying out the door.

0

When I come home from the sterilisation procedure, I find Susan Bones lying on my couch as Jaky spoon-feeds her soup.

“Miss got sick,” he explains.

It’s been two months. If she’s already managed to spend all I gave her, we’re going to have a problem.

Sitting up, she gently pats Jaky on the head. “I’m okay,” she croakily assures him.

Jaky gives me a look.

“Let me talk to Miss Bones alone.”

He leaves, and Susan tosses something at me.

It’s the mokeskin pouch. Opening it, I find jewels and gold.

“I’m not a blackmailer.”

It’s rare to find a Hufflepuff who will hold the same self-loyalty as they do regular loyalty.

“Take care of yourself, Nott.”

Getting up, she takes two steps before falling facedown on the floor.

0

“She and the baby are doing fine,” Healer Thompson tells me. “Do you want to see her?”

“No.” I imagine it’ll take an hour for the ministry to issue a warrant for my arrest. Whether I can get out of the UK before then or not, I don’t know. “Good day.”

0

In an interrogation room, I’m told, “State your full name for the record.”

“Theodore Nott.”

Cocking her head, Auror Savage taps the self-writing quill. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Surely, my name isn’t that uncommon.”

“Why would you confess? We have a file on you, Mister Nott, and everything on it points to you being sociopathic. No one would ever suspect that the cause of your father’s death was an unprovoked attack by you. You committed as near a perfect crime as one could.”

“Sociopaths often crave recognition, auror,” I note.

“That’s not it.”

“Believe what you want. I’m not compelled to explain my motivation.”

 “Very well.” She taps the self-writing quill. “Tell me exactly what happened during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

0

“This is my fault.”

Looking up from the cot, I inquire, “Did you somehow Imperio me and direct me to kill him?”

Susan leans against the wall with her hands wrapped around her stomach. “I tried to blackmail you, Nott.”

“After I killed him,” I point out. “I don’t understand your guilt.”

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Normal people wouldn’t, either. I killed a man in cold blood. You tried to use that as leverage to protect yourself and future progeny. People would say you have less to feel guilty about than I do.”

“Do you feel guilty?”

“No.”

This causes something between a chuckle and a scoff. “A little girl.”

“Healthy?”

“Yes.”

A guard appears. “Visiting hours are over, Miss Bones.”

“I’ll tell Jaky you’re doing okay.”

I nod.

Granger has taken over custody of the elves, but Jaky has grown attached to Susan and often stays with her at the Longbottoms’ place.

0

It’s two in the morning.

“Your bail has been paid.”

This makes no sense. I’d refused to pay my bail, and Susan might have been willing due to her irrational guilt, but she’s certainly not able.

“Hello, Nott,” a familiar voice says. “The ministry’s done a good job of keeping your arrest under wraps. We were surprised.”

“Bulstrode?”

Her customary plait has been replaced by a bob cut that somehow makes her face look less harsh. She’s dressed in black robes, and I notice they’re higher in quality than any of her past clothes.

She nods. “Blaise paid for it. I’m just here to collect you.”

“Ah. The two of you finally came to your senses, then. Congratulations.”

“We’re business partners,” she responds.

Of course, they are. Mrs Hannah Longbottom is expecting her first child, and I’ve heard Lovegood is out-of-country and exploring the world. Why would this be any different?

0

I’m confined to the manor, and most of the elves are with Elise. Jaky and Susan come almost every day, and they usually bear baked sweets. 

Today, Zabini has come to accept repayment for my bail.

“Did Susan owl you?”

“She owled most of our housemates,” he answers, and I wonder if he means most of the people in our year at Hogwarts or most of my Slytherin dorm-mates. “Is it yours?”

It takes a minute to realise what he’s asking.

“No. Crabbe’s.”

Making a face, he inquires, “Which one?”

“I don’t know. She tried to blackmail me so that she could go into hiding.”

His expression darkens, and I inform him, “She came back and returned all the jewels and gold. Hufflepuff to the end.”

“Then, why are you currently awaiting trial?”

“She knew. Urquhart’s mother knew. I rather firmly cut all ties with my father’s old acquaintances, and I decided it would be better to place myself under the ministry’s protection rather than wait for someone much more dangerous to find out.”

“What if you win?”

“Don’t be naïve, Zabini,” I reply. “Aside from killing a man from behind, I’m the Slytherin son of a death eater.”

He looks thoughtful. “I never imagined you and I would be having a conversation like this. I need to get back to Italy. Take care.”

0

Susan comes over for lunch. “Got any advice for sleeping arrangements? I think I want a nursery, but I’m not sure co-sleeping wouldn’t be better.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I answer. “I had a crib, but I kept screaming whenever I was put in it. Eventually, my father put a thick blanket on the floor and put a bubble charm combined with a shielding one over it.

She gives me a horrified look. “You slept on the floor?”

“I didn’t scream, and I was perfectly safe and comfortable.”

“They could have tried a bassinet or had you sleep with them.”

“Elise was terrified I’d somehow turn a bassinet over, and there’s a good chance I would have been crushed or suffocated if they’d done that.”

“Could I see the crib?”

I take her to the storage room.

The iron crib is a large, white canopy one with black netting. Whenever I see it, I wonder if I missed the chance to sleep in the bed one would find in Gothic muggle novels describing the bedroom set of a demon child.

“Did your mum and dad check it good for curses?”

“Yes. They did before I was born, and when I wouldn’t settle, they had it extensively retested. There’s nothing magical about it. I was just a strange baby.”

“I can believe that.” Trailing her fingers across the bars and netting, she asks, “Would you consider selling it?”

“If you want it, take it. I’ll never have any use for it.”

0

“I can’t do this!”

Apparently, I’m the type a person can come to at two- no, three- in the morning to freak out about impending motherhood.

I can’t believe it, really. Who ever saw this coming?

“Is it too late to terminate?”

No, I’m not being deliberately obtuse or unsympathetically sarcastic as her look implies. Unlike some, I don’t how to comfort people, and I especially don’t know how to do so at three in the morning after just being woken up. 

“What do I know about babies?”

“Considering you’re training to be a paediatric healer, I would hope-”

“Raising them!” Then, she surprises me by uttering several expletives. “I can’t do this. I tried to blackmail you, and I once cheated in Herbology, and I’m friends with you. My mother’s answer to everything bad was to feed me sweets, and my father still isn’t speaking to me. I wish, more than anything, that my Aunt Amelia was still around, but no, your father had to bloody kill her! And dear God, I can literally feel my blood in my body, and that’s not normal.”

No, it isn’t.

Rubbing my eyes, I stand. “Susan, get on the bed and lay down. Take deep breaths. You’re going to St. Mungo's.”

She swats at my hands. 

0

Once Susan is settled in a room at St. Mungo’s, she says, “Blood sugar. Healer Thompson and I are going to try to work out a diet and exercise plan, but there’s a possibility I’ll need potions to help regulate it.”

“Is the baby okay?”

“She’s fine,” Susan says. “As long as she doesn’t decide to be born until I have a few years to get myself together, she’ll keep being fine.”

I simply look at her.

Shaking her head, she says, “Thanks for the private room, Nott.”

“If I could do more, I would.”

“I’m eighteen. I’m homeless. And I have no idea what in the world I’m going to tell my little girl when she asks about her daddy. I’ve always believed that termination is a valid option, but when I found out- I couldn’t even consider it for myself without feeling sick. I can’t give her up to someone else.”

“Surely, the Longbottoms-”

“They’d never kick me out. It’s a roof over my head. My job at Hannah’s pub is-” Shutting her eyes, she shakes her head. “How are you so detached, Nott? Help me by telling me. I can’t be. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t work. My father hates me, and I’m relying on a former housemate and her husband for my survival. And I could deal with this if I wasn’t a mum. Or at least, about to be one in a few months.”

“A lot of people would say my being so detached isn’t a good thing,” I point out.

She nods, and before either of us can say anything, Healer Thompson reappears. “Hello, sweetie." To me, he says, “Theodore, there’s a gift shop on the eighth floor. Go buy Susan a leprechaun clover.”

0

Now is a good time as any, I suppose, to wonder what’s going on in my own life.

I have a home. I never have to worry about parenthood.

Here I am browsing a hospital gift shop for a girl who tried to blackmail me.

This doesn’t make sense.

Paying for the clover, I leave, and on the third floor, I hear, “Nott.”

Raising my hands, I reply, “Harry Potter.”

“You activated the alarm.”

I’d forgotten there are charms on the manor to notify the ministry if I left. I’m surprised there weren’t measures to prevent me from actually leaving.

“Harry, no.”

Turning, I see Susan with one hand around her stomach and the other against the railing on the wall. She’s still in her hospital gown, and she looks paler than before.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I heard on the wireless.” She slowly moves forward. “Harry, I went over, and we got sick. My blood sugar. You can talk to Healer Thompson. Theodore called them, and he came to answer their questions. I couldn’t- wasn’t in a state to answer.”

“You still aren’t,” I say.

Spotting an empty wheelchair nearby and hoping it isn’t someone’s personal one, I summon it. “Sit down, Bones. You’re going back to your room, and you’re staying there until Healer Thompson discharges you.”

Unlike muggle wheelchairs, this one is somewhat similar to a recliner, and I activate the feature so her legs are propped up and lying against the fabric before heading for the nearby lift.

Once we get to the room, I levitate her onto the bed and tug the call bell. Handing her the glass of water from her hospital-issued nightstand, I order, “Drink.”

Taking a few sips, she promptly bursts into tears. “You can’t leave. Not because of me. You’re the only one who- Well, you might judge me, but it doesn’t hurt so much!”

Potter takes her hand. “Susan, it’s okay. I’m not going to take Nott into custody. Obviously, he had a good reason for leaving. After I talk to Doctor Thompson, I’ll take him back to his house, alright?”

She quickly calms down, and by the time Healer Thompson appears, they’re having a conversation about his godson and whether butterbeer on a rag is better than some over-the-counter teething potion or not.

When it’s time to leave, I dig out the clover and hand it to her. “Here. Don’t leave until you get a full discharge.”

Rolling her eyes, she holds the clover against her chest. “Thank you, Theodore.”

0

When we get back to the manor, I can tell Potter is curious about Susan and me.

This makes two of us.

Thankfully, however, he doesn’t say anything other than, “Don’t leave again, Nott.”

0

“Master needs to leave UK.”

Jumping, I accidentally spill my inkwell.

“Elise.”

Walking over, she makes the ink disappear with a wave of her hand. “Elise is warrior. She able to leave when she wants.”

“You do know that I killed Father, don’t you? It’s the truth.”

She gives me an utterly unimpressed look. “Who does Master think bind him? Stupid Master, breaking his wand before leaving. Could’ve done it after he was safe, but no, Elise had to take him to St. Mungo's, leave him in a closet. Had to wait until someone find him.”

“Your loyalty to my father is touching.”

“Elise tells on Master, Master goes to Azkaban, and old Elise ends up in some old family like Blacks. They called charitable, and Elise finds her head mounted on wall."

I feel myself smiling. How I wish I’d seen this side of her when I was younger. Father was never this clever, and Mother was clever but too emotional to function properly. I sometimes wondered who I got my nature from, and now, I see.

Blood is meaningless. I’m more the son of an old house-elf than I ever was the son of purebloods.

“Three days,” I say. “Go back, and then, in three days, we’ll leave.”

She nods.

0

Lying on my bed as Celestina Warbeck plays on the wireless, Susan looks up at the enchanted ceiling. This has become a thing. She comes over at eight, lies in bed with me, and tells me about her day. It usually lasts an hour or two before she goes back to the Longbottom’s.

“Did my father really kill your mother?”

Tensing, she answers, “Yes. She was at the Battle of Hogwarts. At St Mungo’s, as she was dying, they did a penseive on her and gave it to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t know-”

“After we got to know one another.”

“I still don’t know you.” She turns away. “This doesn’t make sense. You feel safe, and I don’t know why.”

“Could I see it?”

“I destroyed it.”

“Fair enough. You don’t feel safe. You tried to blackmail me, you visited me in Azkaban, and now, you come over every night. I broke the conditions of my parole because you got sick.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

She sounds tearful, and the last thing I want is for her to cry.

“Bones, I killed a man in cold blood. I killed him when his back was turned. I killed him when his wand arm was lowered. I killed him after he had once saved my life. You were an eighteen-year-old girl with no family support who found yourself pregnant by a war criminal. You panicked, and you rather pathetically tried to blackmail me. You could have gotten yourself killed, you know. And then, because you have a moral compass, you came back, and you gave everything back.”

Touching her arm, I continue, “The first thing you need to learn about parenthood is that this baby you’re carrying is going to make mistakes and do bad things. Intent and circumstances always matter.”

Rolling back over, she looks up. “Thank you.”

Nodding, I wipe away the fallen tears, and overtaken by instinct, I lean down and kiss her forehead.

It’s only two more days. Some part of me feels as if I should tell her, now.

0

One more day.

“Do you have a name planned out?”

“Sara,” she mutters. “No ‘h’. It means princess.”

Seeing she’s fallen asleep, I carefully slip out of bed and go to the dining room.

Taking a breath, I sit down and close my eyes.

I don’t know if I can’t feel anything or if I just can’t recognise what I am feeling.

0

After sending an owl to the ministry and being granted permission to floo to St. Mungo's, I find myself in an examining room.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“My emotions,” I answer.

Healer Thompson gives me a sympathetic look. “Do you think you might be depressed?”

“I don’t know. As back as I can remember, I’ve rarely felt things very strongly. Most of the time, I don’t think I feel anything at all. Or if I can.”

He sighs. “You can feel things, Theodore. Trust me. You may not be able to recognise what you feel, you may not be able to connect properly with your emotions, but you do have them.”

“Why the melancholy on your part, then?”   

“I’m not sure what the problem is, but I can tell you that it won’t be easy to fix. Whether it’s finding the right medication or going through a long process of therapy, there’s no easy solution. If this had been caught when you were younger-” He trails off.

“You think I might not have killed my father.”

He’s quiet for a long minute. Then, he says, “I think you’re a good person. You just don’t know it. And no matter what the outcome of your trial, if you want to pursue treatment, I will help you. However, I should warn you that- this could end up being very painful for you. If I could help you learn to experience the good without having to deal with all the bad, I would.”

“I’ve read that dealing with the bad is part of being human.”

“It is,” he agrees. “Another part of being human is wanting to spare those you care for having to.”

“I want to pursue treatment.”

We make an appointment for the weekend.

0

When Elise comes, I let a glove flutter down onto her hand.

“It’s time to go, Elise. You don’t have much of a life to live, and I don’t have any. The Nott family was built on something unstable, and it can’t stand any longer. If you’ve ever truly wanted what was best for me, don’t let me watch you and the others fall with it.”

She shakes her head. “Elise always knew something different about you. Mistress loved you. Not right, no, but she thought- Free.”

“I’ve never held a grudge against her.”

She summons more clothes. “Jaky stay with Bones girl.”

“It’ll be his choice.”

Suddenly, there are tears. “Elise never want this for you.”

“This started long before you born, Elise. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Nodding, she leans forward and presses a kiss against my forehead.

Then, she’s gone.

0

“Do you understand the charges levied against you, Mister Nott?”

From the cage, I answer, “Yes.”

“How do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

One of them starts to open her mouth, but a loud wail fills the room.

Susan.

I try to get to her, but the cage stops me.

Moving as much as I can, I try to see past the people surrounding her. She’s on the floor with one hand gripping the chair leg and the other holding tightly to Jaky’s hand.

“He’s not going to run! You haven’t sentenced, yet! Theodore, come, you have to come, please, please, oh God, kill me now, Jaky, get him, and then, give him a wand so that he can kill me, no, wait, I have- give my wand back, you-” An inhumane sound emits from her.

Potter walks over, taps the cage, and it disappears. He stands aside.

“Thank you.”

Rushing over, I take her hand from Jaky’s, and trying to ignore the physical pain, I place my other hand on her stomach and feel my own stomach twist when the baby kicks. “Susan, I’ll go with you. Take deep breaths. We need to stabilise your blood pressure as much as possible before we go. You don’t want to have to tell Sara she was born in the middle of a courtroom hearing, do you?”

“The Crabbes are big. Oh, God, she’s going to weigh twelve pounds, and I’m going to give her weight issues for the rest of her life. Jaky, go kill the Crabbes!”

“No!”

He blinks at me. “It not make things better?”

“Yes, yes, it will, go-”

“Susan, stop ordering the helplessly devoted elf to murder. Take deep breaths.” As she does, I tell her, “You were five pounds. I was three. The healers will give you a numbing potion and whatever else they need to, and she’ll come out easily.”

“And we can send Jaky to kill the Crabbes if she doesn’t?”

Her hand is still unnaturally tight around mine, and her breaths are coming out in pants, but she’s calm enough to be moved.

“Of course,” I answer.

0

Hannah strokes Susan’s face.

“It’ll be okay,” Susan keeps repeating with her voice slurred. “It’ll be okay.”

Clinging to my legs, Jaky looks up at her with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hannah, if I die, you have to make sure- Don’t send her to Hogwarts. I loved it, until the end of my fourth year, but- Look at him; it’s so easy to be alone, there.”

“She’s not going to die,” I assure Jaky. “The last witch in the UK to die due to childbirth was the Dark Lord’s mother, and if she’d even been in a decent muggle hospital, the chances of her living would have been almost guaranteed.”

The midwitch appears. “You’re almost ready for delivery, Miss Bones. Are you experiencing any pain?”

“Hannah,” Susan says, “if they come, you have to fight. Where’s Neville? The sword- he can-”

“Honey, Neville’s still in Bulgaria. He’s trying his best to get back, but he may not be able to until after the delivery.”

Turning her eyes on me, Susan insists, “You have to, then. You owe me, Theodore. You can’t let them- you can’t.”

“Miss Bones, no one but you will leave here with the child. Special enchantments are in place to protect our neonatal patients.”

“Jaky, if any of the Crabbes come and ask to do a DNA test-”

“Without your consent or a legal order, we would refuse,” the midwitch tells her.

She looks at me, and suddenly, I feel uncomfortable.

“Oh,” Susan says.

I suddenly have an armful of quaking house-elf.

“The princess is coming. Theodore, hold my hand. Hannah, start taking pictures. Jaky, get a cold, wet towel and be prepared to have me bite it. I don’t want one of the first thing my daughter hears to be her mum screaming.”

It’s fascinating how everyone and everything springs into action.

Setting Jaky down on the counter, I go sit in the chair Hannah has vacated.

0

“Are you okay,” Healer Thompson inquires.

Asleep in my arms, Sara occasionally nuzzles against my chest. She’s six pounds, four ounces, and has a thin, pale layer of hair covering her head. She has Susan’s blue eyes.

The world is full of pain and suffering, but some people are lucky enough to be untouched by it. I wonder if she’ll insist on eating marshmallows every Thursday at midnight like her mother does, if she’ll make a lot of friends or just have a few close ones, if she’ll be the kind who can find humour in anything or the type who sees all the pain and suffering and decides she’ll try to fix it. I can see she has so much potential for so many things, and as much as I want to see all that happen, I hope she stays like this, tiny and utterly helpless, for a little while.

“No.” I refuse to believe there are tears in my eyes. “She’s not mine, and I think I’d do anything to see her safe and happy. If my mother felt anything like this when she held me, how could she bring herself to even think about sliding a knife in my throat?”

“You will be.”

There’s a gentle hand on my shoulder, and the tears fall.

Standing up, I carefully put her in Healer Thompson’s arms. “I need to- clear my head.”

0

“Is she okay,” Susan inquires.

“Yes.” I lean down to kiss her. “I need to go, now.”

Nodding, she trails her finger across my hand. “I’m still overdramatic. Don’t do-” She yawns, and her eyes close.

I have the aurors escort me back to the ministry.

0

The newspaper reads Susan Amelia Bones gave birth to Sara Theodora Nott.

After my sentence, I definitely need to talk to her.

0

A cold feeling of fear sweeps through me.

Looking over, I see Jaky and Elise play with Sara as Susan watches me.

I’m about to lose them all.

“All those who find Theodore Nott guilty, raise their hand.”

Naturally, every hand rises.

“Though we’ve found no evidence of the accused’s involvement with Lord Voldemort, he has proven himself sociopathic and willing to ruthlessly murder. The recommended penalty is death. Are there any objections?”

No.

I close my eyes.

0

If she had her wand, Susan would hex me.

Grabbing her hands, I pull her down next to me. “You gave her my name. I want Sara to grow up in a better world than we did. After this, they won’t be able to give lighter sentences to the likes of the Crabbes. There would be a public backlash if they did. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Tears run down her face, and I swallow. “I gave her your name because you love her. I’ve known that since before you did. Where’s her better world with her father dead?”

“I killed mine, Susan.”

“You were a victim,” she hisses, “and you tried to free yourself. You didn’t see any other way.”

Carefully, I put my arms around her. “A long time ago, the Nott name was respected. It represented good. With Sara, its redemption can start. Listen to me: I’m going to stop the treatments; it turns out that I’m actually somewhat terrified of death. Tell me goodbye, and then, go home to our daughter.”

She sobs. “I c-can’t just say goodbye.”

“Yes, you can. As long as you have Sara and the Longbottoms and Elise and Jaky, you can get through this. I promise.”

Leaning back, she grabs my face and kisses me. “I love you, Theodore.”

“I’ve gathered.” Taking a deep breath and wiping her face, I kiss her cheek. “Thank you. Now, go home.”

“I love you,” she repeats.

0

Until now, I’ve never seen Healer Thompson truly uncomfortable. “The potions should be completely out of your system by the time-”

“It’s okay.” Standing, I say, “Thank you. Aside from the house-elves, you were the first person to take an active interest in my well-being. It’s- it’s been a long time since I experienced feelings, and I’m glad I was able to.”

Suddenly, I’m being hugged.

0

The doorbell rings.

Sighing, Susan sets Sara down in her crib. “I’ll get it,” she tells Elise.

Nodding, Elise waits until Susan has left before climbing up and looking down.

Sara coos.

“The Nott line will continue, yes,” Elise informs her. “Elise won’t see it happen, but it will.”


End file.
